


The Only Living Boy In New York

by karaokegal



Category: Heroes RPF
Genre: Incest, M/M, RPF, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-22
Updated: 2010-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-13 23:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karaokegal/pseuds/karaokegal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Opening night of Angels In America. It's almost everything he thought it would be and a few things he didn't expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Only Living Boy In New York

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Joanne_c](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joanne_c/gifts).



> WARNING: This is RPF. Real people and their real friends, significant others, co-stars and pets. If it's a squick, do not click. DISCLAIMER: This never happened and I'm not making any money for saying it did. THANKS: To the awesome filthgoblin for doing such a fast and thorough beta.

He’d always imagined telegrams.

That’s what you get from growing up lonely in Pittsburgh, memorizing All About Eve. Not only could he utter the words _The Cub Room - where the elite meet. Never have I seen so much elite, all with their eyes on me, waiting for me to knock that little gnome in the noggin with a bottle._ in a Bette Davis imitation that would put Charles Pierce to shame, but he’d developed a full-blown fantasy of his opening night on Broadway complete with the obligatory champagne and a make-up mirror festooned with telegrams offering congratulations. Somehow texts just weren’t the same.

He sent a quick note to Matt about an hour before show time mentioning the lack of telegrams and got back a message saying **Stop whining and go do your job.**

 _Thanks a lot, Bonehead_ , he thought to himself, but of course Matt was right. So was Eve Harrington though. The applause afterwards really was like waves of love washing over the footlights. He’d never felt so alive, so giddy, so elated, so loved, and so alone.

The last didn’t really hit him until nearly dawn. Before that he’d gone from the back-stage chaos to the cast-party at the Marquee which went on till closing and even then he’d chosen to walk home, trying to burn off some of the excess adrenaline, knowing he had to crash sometime and get some sleep. The walking hadn’t done it and despite his desire to live a fearless life, Zach wasn’t quite crazy enough to head out for a jog in Central Park at four in the morning. Noah was a scrappy fellow, who would take on all comers, but the dog was too adorable sleeping for Zach to consider waking him up.

He thought of calling the coast, where it was only one, and finding someone who could talk him down. Leonard would do it in heartbeat, and hearing that soothing voice was pretty much like tapping into a direct line to the Buddha himself. Chris was probably up too. They’d spent plenty of late nights and early mornings together, watching the trashiest of movies, wondering how pissed off JJ would be if they showed up on set looking totally trashed.

Matt was in town, but he was filming and Bonehead had always been an eight hours kind of guy. If anything had kept them on the friendship side of the line, it was that. Zach loved Matt like a brother, sometimes in more ways than one, but he needed a partner who could keep up with his chronic insomnia.

Speaking of lover and brothers, he knew Joe was probably awake, working on pictures he’d done for opening night. They’d spoken briefly at the party, as much as anyone could actually talk over the din. Joe was working and Zach was still riding that wave of exhilaration, so they weren’t exactly in synch. Zach found Joe incredibly sexy when he was working a room like that. Moving stealthily like a predator to get the shots. Not sleazy paparazzi stuff, but real art that revealed a slightly different truth than the posed studio photographs. Yeah, he should call Joe, grab a cab, go over to his place and…

Maybe not. Things were different there too. Which he wasn’t quite ready to think about, because he wasn’t quite sure what it was or when it had happened. He didn’t even know if it was sex he wanted right now and maybe Joe wasn’t alone.

_Well, if it’s about sex…_

He really wanted to shut up that voice in his head. Because who said anything about sex? He just wanted someone to talk to for awhile. He’d just had the most incredible night of his life. Opening night on Broadway, man. The way he’d always dreamed, even if there were no telegrams. It was like being Ruby Keeler in 42nd Street. He would have tap-danced around the apartment, except there was a neighbor downstairs with a crappy attitude and anyway, dancing had never been his strong suit. Even back in his Pirates of Penzance days, he’d relied on his singing and damn if he couldn’t still get out all of “I Am The Very Model” if anyone asked. He might do it right now just for fun and because he was still too wired to sleep and the fact that he was by himself was making him a little crazy. “And no,” he said out loud to no one, in particular “it’s not about sex.”

 _Sure_.

“OK. Maybe. Just a little.”

Now that he thought about it, he really did want to get off, but also wanted to talk to someone about this trippy, scary, thrilling, incredibly lonely feeling he had, and most of the people he’d been thinking about calling were people he’d slept with. They were also people he loved. Zach had never been good at separating the two. Friends with benefits didn’t really work for him, no matter how often he tried. He and Bonehead were like Frank and Gene in Anchors Aweigh. Matt was the dancing lady’s (and gentleman’s) man and Zach was all alone in the Hollywood Bowl (or his Manhattan apartment in the West 80’s) singing “I Fall In Love Too Easily.”

Presumably he should count himself lucky that they were all his friends even after the benefits ran out, but even with Joe, it left a space. An emptiness that sheer warm bodies would never fill.

He checked his email. The early reviews were already on the web. Variety was ecstatic; The Times suitably demure, but still enthusiastic. He sorted his texts and emails into groups. Pittsburgh. Trek. Fans. Heroes. The emails from his former co-stars on Heroes ranged from the boyishly supportive (Grunberg) to heart-felt admiration (Milo) and inane, but still sweet, Capslocked craziness (Hayden.) Jack had sent a long thoughtful message, which Zach would print out to read later and cherish. Jack was like Leonard, although he hadn’t been in the game quite as long. He’d seen the fickle bitch goddess Fame at her best and worst. And besides, he’d been Stephen fucking Carrington, who was pretty much the only gay character Zach had seen on television when he was growing up, not to mention still being hot as fuck. It wasn’t like he was going to miss a chance to tap that, and you couldn’t say he hadn’t tried.

The whole Heroes set had been one big touchy-feely orgy of teasing and flirting. It wasn’t terribly surprising that the fans insisted they saw things between Sylar and Mohinder or Peter and Nathan or even Noah and Claire, because honestly, all the actors seemed to have crushes on one another, and it had to come through on screen. Strangely enough, there wasn’t all that much actual sex going on, at least not that Zach knew for sure. Jack had been extremely sweet and polite and turned him down. Fair enough, although even when Hayden and Milo were officially an item, it was hard to miss the chemistry going on between Jack and Hayden, never mind Milo and Adrian.

Just thinking those last two names was a mistake. Specifically the last one.

Adrian.

_You rang?_

Fuck you!

Only an imaginary Adrian Pasdar could get him this worked up. Adrian hadn’t texted. Or emailed. Or called. Or been in touch since their last day of filming together. And it bothered him, even if he couldn’t say way.

_You mean you don’t want to say why._

OK, he’d been attracted to Adrian, and genuinely fascinated by his relationship with Milo. Whatever it was.

Bonehead used to call him up and beg for backstage gossip.

“Come on, man. Those two are totally going at it, right?”

“Do you mean Peter and Nathan?”

“Yeah,” Matt would snark, “like they’re actually gonna put _that_ on television. I mean the guys. Adrian and Milo. I know, I wouldn’t kick either one of them out of my trailer. So what’s going on?”

“Whatever it is, they haven’t invited me to participate.”

“Well, that’s just rude.”

“Tell me about it.”

Things got weird after he came back from filming Trek. OK, weirder. Both on and off screen. Zach had seriously considered trying to get out of his contract, but he just wasn’t that kind of guy and besides, he personally was getting pretty incredible material even if some of it defied all credulity, which for Heroes was saying a lot.

Milo and Hayden had broken up, but things also seemed strained between Adrian and Milo.

For some reason Adrian wanted to spend time with Zach, as if he didn’t know that Zach had a little crush and a reputation for sleeping with his friends. He kept inviting Zach to come along to Band From Television gigs, or to go out for beers after filming, or to just hang out in his trailer playing Go. Zach didn’t want to make the same mistake he had with Jack, and besides Adrian was even more blatantly devoted to his wife than Jack was. Big pictures of Natalie and the kids everywhere. At least one phone call every day. No way was anything ever going to happen.  


Then they went out for beers again. Too many beers, at least for a work night. Zach didn’t necessarily appreciate being stuck at Barney’s Beanery with Adrian and his issues. Sure he liked Adrian, loved working with him, would have totally sucked his cock if given half a chance. But the more Adrian drank, the darker his mood got, and Zach could see him going to an unpleasantly maudlin place.  


OK, Zach could be a friend. He would listen to Adrian get drunk and talk shit about everybody including his wife and Milo and Tim Kring and the networks and his agent. He even had a few less than charming words for the fans and their expectations. Fine. They all needed to vent every now and then, and if Adrian want to metaphorically cry on his shoulder, so be it.  


It was a rather stunning look into the heart of a very unhappy man. Only when he thought Adrian was on the verge of literal tears did Zach remember that they were in public. The Beanery wasn’t exactly a touristi hot-spot, but still not someplace where it would not be good to be seen having a drunken melt-down.

“Dude, we need to get you out of here.”

“I’ll drive.”

“Like hell you will.”

“Like hell you’ll stop me.”

Zach hated it when his life sounded like a screenplay.

He didn’t think he could outfight a former Navy Seal, even a drunken one, but he really had to try. Adrian’s MG was in the parking lot, which was poorly lit, like the small tacky dive the Beanery had always been. Luckily it was quiet. Too late for tourists, too early for the hipster crowd.

Just right for an argument, including a bit of name-calling, and a very one-sided struggle for the keys.

“Adrian, please.”

“Please what?”

Why did the drunken taunting have to sound so incredibly sexy?

“You don’t want to do this. Even if you don’t end up killing yourself, you’ll get a DUI and your own personal Nick Nolte mug-shot.”

“I’m better looking than Nick Nolte.” Zach couldn’t argue with that, although Nolte had certainly been hot back in the day. “You think I’m good looking, don’t you Zach? I’ve seen you looking at me. “

Adrian had him pushed up against the car. Zach could feel the door handle pressing into his back. He could also feel Adrian pressing against him in front. Hard. Pretty impressive after that many beers.

“Bad idea,” he muttered, only to be muffled by a boozy, forceful kiss and the idea that this was just too ridiculous and must be a really fucked up dream or some that of internet fiction that Sendhil and Grunny were always giggling over. If he ever found out that one of his fans had written this, he would give them a scolding. There’s fearless and then there’s stupid; dry humping your fucked up co-star in a parking lot on Santa Monica Boulevard is just stupid.

And, apparently, incredibly hot. In that moment he was crazy aroused, and only wishing he could get his mouth on Adrian’s cock, but Adrian had control of the situation. He kept their mouths and pelvises tightly together, pushing, grinding, thrusting and finally groaning in what sounded like a mixture of pain and celebration. Zach needed a little more friction and managed to pull Adrian towards him so he got just the right angle, closed his eyes, imagined the whole thing on screen, and there, right there, there it was, and FUCK it was good.  


“Shit,” he gasped, shaking and shaken, the expected regrets coming in right on schedule.  


“Whoooo!”

Adrian was practically braying his satisfaction, while Zach was experiencing rising panic.

“We have really got to get out of here.”

Zach tensed, prepared for more resistance, but the fight seemed to have gone out of Adrian. He was now relaxed and pliant and agreed to get in the car and let Zach drive him back to his apartment in Westwood.

It never happened again, and it was one piece of backstage gossip he hadn’t shared with Chris, Matt or anybody else. He’d tried to put the whole thing out of his head as he finished up the rest of the season on Heroes and decided it was one of those cautionary tales about how Hollywood made people crazy.

By one of those weird coincidences that make people either believe in God or conspiracy theories, he’d gotten the offer to do “Angels” the same day that news broke about Adrian’s DUI. Zach smiled and decided to go to bed without making any calls. He might be lonely, but at least he was comfortable with who he was. He hoped Adrian would find that someday too, and that he wouldn’t mind Zach rubbing one out to the memory of that night.

Zach still remembered the song that Adrian had sung on the ride home, an old Simon and Garfunkel song full of sweetness and melancholy.

He sang it to himself, as the first rays of light started to break over the East River.

_Half of the time we're gone but we don't know where,  
And we don't know where._


End file.
